This City - Malcolm Halsey-Milhaupt
Sights for seeing, riotous noise,
Stories that stretch ad infinitum
Into new steel in the sky, refined.
Walk around, take it all in.
There is a meal a mile;
There is a mile a minute.
Avatars sprayed in intricacy,
Indelible upon the hidden skin;
Visions that are reliquaries
Of color and sign, the old lore.
Turn a wrong corner, witness
A prayer enshrined in bric-a-brac.
Press your ear to the wall, seek—
Do you hear the hum of making?
This city is a metropolis.
This city has all but forgotten.
Let alone what is left of origin.
Park not before these sites.
Pollute not their sentiment.
They are the splatter-stain worn
Like a tattoo, in memoriam,
The last prints of heaven in the labyrinth.
Malcom is a senior, majoring in English and Theatre & Drama. He enjoys writing poems that seek to mythologize the phenomenological, make love to the absurd, and generally promote good times between people. This poem, hopefully, achieves at least one of these things. He hopes you love it.